


God Damn Witch

by sshp4ever



Series: What He Didn't Know [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Dubious Consent, Finger Fucking, Fingering, Knotting, Licking, M/M, Magic Made Them Do It, Rimming, Stiles is naked in the woods, Violence, hints of dubious consent from both parties, i hope i'm not forgeting anything, maybe a little bondage kind of, my first attempt at porn, unprotected sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-04
Updated: 2013-04-04
Packaged: 2017-12-07 10:28:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/747479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sshp4ever/pseuds/sshp4ever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles gets kidnapped by a witch. But does he really want the friendly neighborhood alpha to get involved? Licking ensues. Hints of dubious consent. Magic made them do it. Knotting. *This was just an excuse for porn, leave me alone!*</p>
            </blockquote>





	God Damn Witch

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf. If I did, there would be no need for fanfiction because everyone’s ships would be canon. There would be no plot, just porn. So, yeah. Obviously, Teen Wolf—and all its characters—are not my property.

_God damn witch!_

Stiles was livid. It was the first day of summer break and he was supposed to be asleep. But no. Here he was running for his life—as per usual—through the woods at two in the morning.

_Fucking witch!_

He should have known! He’d had the feeling he was being watched all week and since this was _Beacon Hills_ it had been worth his suspicion, but Stiles had been eager to ignore it for the allure of a supernatural-free summer.

_Damn his luck!_

Why he’d thought anything could ever happen that wouldn’t make his life miserable was beyond him. He had the worst luck in all of Beacon Hills. He wasn’t even being dramatic. How unlucky was it to be running for his life through the woods at ass-o’clock in the morning.

Well…not exactly for his life. If he had understood the meaning behind the crazy witch’s spell he was running for his virginity.

Also proof of his horrible luck was the fact that he even still had his virginity to run for! If it had been up to Stiles, he would have left his virginity in the back of his jeep with Lydia Martin months ago…or, at this point, anyone would do if it would get him out of this fucked up situation.

But as it was Stiles was sprinting, well more like tripping, through the dense forest of the preserve at this god-forsaken hour. To be fair it was mostly all his fault. He should have known not to ignore his intuition, but he had. And when he’d walked into his room that night and seen the dark figure in the corner he should have realized it wasn’t Derek.

Now that he thought about it, it couldn’t have been Derek. First the figure had been quite a bit smaller and…well…curvier than the angular lines Stiles associated with the broody alpha. Second, and really most obvious, Derek hadn’t been a creeper-McCreeper-pants in months! Oh sure he still had an aversion to entering his house through the front door like normal people (werewolves included) but ever since Scott had officially joined his pack Derek had had the decency to call him before he barged through his window. Granted, he usually only got about five seconds warning—at the most!—but it had saved them from many an awkward moment, involving a certain thing Stiles like to call his personal sexy-time. He had needs, okay!

Anyway, so it was all his fault. But that didn’t make up for the fact that he was running to protect his ass all because some crazy witch had a grudge. He was still a little unclear about why the woman was so pissed off. In all fairness he had been a little distracted. The bitch had done some crazy magic thing that had somehow transported them both out of his bedroom and deep into an unfamiliar part of the forest. If this wasn’t bad enough, the witch hadn’t bothered to transport his clothes!

Now normally Stiles had no problem with nudity. But that may have been because the only times he was ever really naked were by himself in the privacy of his bedroom and bathroom or after practice in the locker room when everyone else was just as naked _and male_. So he’d never been naked in front of a girl before. Sue him! It was still on his to do list. Or at least it had been before tonight. However, the particular circumstances behind his nakedness hadn’t quite been what he was expecting. Normally when he had imagined his first time—and subsequent nakedness—the other person was naked too. Oh, and they were inside. On a bed. Definitely not in the middle of the woods with one of them still fully clothed cackling like a lunatic and waving around a knife. A really big knife. But hey! Stiles was flexible; he had kinks. Maybe this could be his thing. And maybe it could have been until that knife had gotten a little bit too close to him and then any excitement he had begun to feel—from being naked with an audience (he had always known that he was into exhibition)—vanished.

He hadn’t been able to move. Whoever this witch was, she was exceedingly powerful. Before he’d really been able to take in his new surroundings he’d been bound to a tree, his bare ass pressed uncomfortably against the rough bark and his hands bound behind him against his back. That’s when she’d come at him with the knife. There had been nothing he could do. Sure he had yelled and pleaded and generally tried to talk her to death, but she had acted as if she couldn’t hear him at all.

Her frizzy blond hair had tickled his chin as she’d darted in and began lightly tracing out symbols into the skin on his ribs. He had suspected she would have hurt him a lot more than this, as it was it had merely tickled. There was no pain, no blood. Stiles wanted—no, needed to know what was she was up to. _What was she_ doing _!?_ Instead of the traditional sting of a cut—which Stiles was all too familiar with—the witch left a peculiar burning sensation in her wake.

Stepping back to admire her handy work, the mad woman smirked and, for the first time, looked Stiles right in the eye.

“Peccata matris adduceret bestia illius accipies innocentiae!”**

Stiles didn’t speak Latin but he was pretty sure she wasn’t wishing him good morning. The only word he recognized was “innocentiae,” and he’d watched enough porn to know that when you’re naked and someone says innocence… someone’s virginity is at stake. In this case, the virginity at stake was his. He was understandably unhappy about this. Especially as the easy smirk she wore transformed into a malicious grin. He shivered as she grew close to him once again. Standing on her toes she had leaned into him and whispered in his ear.

“Run.”

After that she had just vanished. Stiles swore he hadn’t blinked but he hadn’t even seen her disappear. Just one minute she was there and the next… _abracadabra_! No more crazy-ass witch lady.

Also he was no longer glued to the tree, although his hands were still bound behind his back. He’d stumbled from the surprise of being so suddenly released. Once he had finally caught himself and prevented quite an embarrassing nose dive, he surveyed his surroundings. He’d hoped against all logic that maybe there was a spare knife around so he could free his hands or maybe even a pair of sweatpants. Unfortunately, but not unsurprisingly, neither had appeared. Why couldn’t he ever catch a break?

What he did find, however, was a pair of beady red eyes glaring at him through the trees.

They were very familiar red eyes.

“Derek, dude! Thank god you’re here, man, you won’t believe…” It didn’t take long for Stiles to realize that something was wrong. _Very wrong_. For one thing instead of approaching him the eyes (Derek) disappeared. The second indicator was when they reappeared.

Any relief that had formed in the few seconds of believing Derek had come to save him vanished when Stiles saw the transformed alpha standing before him. Something was wrong, very very very very very  wrong. Stiles had seen Derek wolfed-out many times throughout the past year, but never once had he looked like this. There was no humanity in the man-wolf before him. All Stiles could see was the beast.

And apparently all the beast could see was his scrumptious naked body. The gleaming eyes raked his bare form in a way that Stiles—at any other time—could have found arousing. But at the moment it made him want to crawl under his bed and cry like a baby. He could tell when Derek was about to pounce. With a humiliating squeak that he would deny to his grave Stiles took the witch’s advice and ran.

                This brought Stiles back to the present, stumbling through the ever thickening underbrush of the preserve. He couldn’t hear Derek following him but that didn’t mean much since his bumbling and frustrated cursing was stirring up quite a racket. Stiles could feel eyes on him, though, so he was certain that he was being followed but he wasn’t about to stop to make sure.

                Or at least wasn’t planning on stopping, but gravity had other ideas and he was already having troubles staying upright with his arms pinned behind his back, so when he ran right through the biggest thorn bush imaginable it didn’t take long before he was eating dirt. Literally.

                “Ugh! Blahck! That’s disgusting! Fuck fuck fuck! Fucking OW!” Well now he knew that dirt was in fact absolutely disgusting. Also thorns were fucking painful. He was lucky though. Only his upper body had landed on in the thorn bush—hurrah his genitals were spared!—but he had somehow managed to get the prickly vines wrapped around his shoulders. Some wound across his naked back. Every movement brought new sources of pain, both from the numerous barbs that had attached themselves to him and an unpleasant tingling sensation from whatever the witch had drawn onto his chest.

                With a final groan, Stiles accepted his predicament. He was well and truly screwed. Possibly literally. He was stuck; face down ass up, in the thorn bush of death. Not to mention the feral alpha werewolf on the loose that apparently wanted a piece of the aforementioned ass. Let’s not forget the crazy witch’s spell and the scratches on his ribs that were probably at this very moment contracting tetanus or gangrene or some other crazy life threatening illness.

                Tonight was really not his night.

                But Stiles was nothing if not intelligent. He wouldn’t have survived the previous year if he wasn’t. Quickly taking in his situation, he fell still and tried to slow his breathing. Maybe if he was really lucky Derek would go deaf, dumb, and blind and forget about him. He knew it was a lot to ask for but, Stiles really felt as if the fates owed him big time after all the shit that they had dealt him so far tonight.

                He strained, trying to hear anything over the sound of his ragged breathing. Either Derek had forgotten about him or the werewolf was using his heightened abilities to sneak up on him. Stiles held little faith in the former. And he was right to.

                He heard it a second before he felt it. There was a snuffling noise accompanied by a continuous deep growling that reminded Stiles of a large happy cat. But the sound was much closer than he’d expected, causing him to jump—agitating both his chest and the bush of demented prickly prickles. This, of course, exposed his exact position to Derek. A moment later there was something cold against his exposed thigh. It was followed by a rough wet something—was it a tongue? Yes, Stiles thought so— dragging up his leg toward the curve of his ass.

                And suddenly shit got very real.

                “Hey, man, not cool. It’s rude to lick a dude without his express permission. That’s like rule number one of the bro-code.”

                Unsurprisingly, there was no response. Just more licking. More licking in a direction that Stiles really didn’t want the tongue to go. Well, if Stiles was completely honest with himself, he could acknowledge that he wouldn’t mind that tongue to explore other…areas. But whenever he’d had _those_ thoughts—the one’s he wouldn’t let himself think about too much—there had been a lot less dirt and thorns and a lot more comfy pillows and consent.

                But the lawless tongue was travelling up and up until he felt it reach the crease of his ass cheeks. This may have been the point where he started to panic.

                “Dude, stop!” Stiles said. “NO. Bad dog, I said no!”

                There was still no response except the continued drag of the rough appendage.

                Yeah, definitely panicking.

                “Hey hey hey. Come on, please stop!” Stiles could feel his breath start to quicken and his throat begin to close. “Please stop! I don’t want this! Did you hear me, man? I am officially not a willing participant!” Still nothing. His lungs began to constrict.

                But Derek just kept on licking as if he hadn’t heard a word. Stiles remembered the man he’d seen with the blazing red eyes. Only the wolf had danced behind those eyes, the man hadn’t been present.

                The tongue reached the juncture where his ass met his lower back and paused before beginning to make the return journey. A hand joined the invading appendage, pushing against one of his ass cheeks, exposing his hole for the first time. The extended claws dug into the flesh of his bottom, making him wince.

                “P-please come on, man. Don’t, p-please.” It came out as a whimper.

                The tongue swiped across his unprotected hole. A violent shiver tore up Stiles’ spine. The elongated nails flexed in his flesh.

                A sob burst from his chest as he struggled for air. He knew better than to try and escape, but he couldn’t not put up a fight.

                “No no no no no. Stop…please.” His eyes welled up with moisture as his pleas went unanswered. It was impossible to breathe.

                “Derek.”

                It had barely been a whisper but the effect of his name was almost immediate. The wolf behind him stilled and suddenly the air behind him was empty.

                “Derek?”

                And then hands were on him. Not the half-man-half-beast claws, but actual hands gripped his waist and pulled him up from the dirt, untangling him from the brambles that had woven themselves around his defenseless body. There was a ripping noise and Stiles flinched but there was no pain just his hands falling free from their bonds.

                Suddenly he was standing again, free, but very naked. Derek—human Derek—stood before him, his face completely blank. He stood perfectly rigid. Upon closer inspection he seemed to be shaking as if trying to restrain himself.

                “Derek,” Stiles didn’t want to stop saying his name; it seemed to be good luck. “What’s going on?”

                For a second, Stiles didn’t think the werewolf was going to respond but a few long moments later, Derek managed to reply.

                “I can’t—it’s hard to—the witch—I can’t stop it.” He voice seemed very strained, tight. It was obvious that he was close to losing control again.

                “Stop what?”

                No response. Alarmed, Stiles reached out and touched him, hoping to act as an anchor. “Derek, what is it?”

                Again, the repetition of his name seemed to ground him, perhaps reminding the man before him that he was, in fact, human.

                “The witch—a spell,” Derek grit through his teeth. “I have to—mate—with you.”

                “Yeah, I got that part genius, what with the whole licking me like I’m some sort of catnip flavored lollipop. What I’m unclear on is why?”

                Derek growled. “Why doesn’t matter right now!” He sounded angry. “You should be more concerned about the fact that I’m about thirty seconds from taking you right here, on the ground!”

                Stiles was confused. “But you stopped, can’t you just continue not molesting me?” he asked hopefully.

                “No—has to—happen. B-but—I can—make it better—for you.” Derek’s eyes turned soft for a moment before hardening with determination even as his control began to slip again. With movements too fast for him to see, Derek scooped him up and slung him over his shoulder. Stiles would have felt like a bag of flour if it hadn’t been for the hand on his ass.

                “Derek, your hand—it’s molesting my poor virgin ass. Again!”

                “Sorry…” the man muttered, moving his guilty limb, but he didn’t pause as he strode off into the woods.

                Stiles was trying to be quiet, he really was. He had a lot to think about. But as usual he couldn’t stay silent with his questions. He only lasted thirty seconds.

                “Dude, were you _licking_ my ass? Do you even know how many jokes I could make with this material?”

                “Would you have preferred I take you dry?”

                That shut Stiles up. It was now dawning on him that he had only just avoided being brutally raped by a rabid werewolf. He couldn’t help it when his trembling started and his breathing started to constrict again.

                “Put me down!” Suddenly Stiles wanted to be as far away from Derek as possible. He didn’t care that the man seemed to have as little choice in all this as he did. Stiles was desperate to be by himself. He needed to think about this.

                “I can’t. I wish I could—but I can’t.” It was said apologetically, but Stiles was in no mood to be forgiving. He was angry at Derek for what had happened. Logically, he knew that the witch was the only one responsible and that Derek was just as much a victim as he was. But it wasn’t Derek’s ass that had been licked against his will; it was Stiles’ virginity at stake here, not the alpha’s. “Sorry.”

                It was that word that stopped Stiles’ furious inner monologue. The apology had come out so broken and so horribly honest that Stiles couldn’t help but pause.

                Derek _never_ apologized. _Ever_. And especially not to him. Suspicious, Stiles really considered the werewolf’s appearance for the first time that night.

                Derek was wearing his customary gray Henley and obscenely tight jeans that Stiles had appreciated on a regular basis for the past year or so. The only modifications to the alpha’s attire was the glaring blood stains on the gray fabric of his shirt and tears in both pieces of clothing from their chase through the woods. In other words, it was a typical Derek-the-badass-werewolf outfit.

                His face, however, was another thing all together.

                Sure there were no gashes or scrapes—courtesy of BAMF werewolf genetics—and his expression wasn’t pleasant (which wasn’t unusual either for Mr. Sourwolf) but it did hold a certain expression that Stiles had only seen in the first few week of their acquaintance. It was the face he associated with anything to do with Kate.

                Now Stiles wasn’t stupid; he knew Kate was dead. There was no reason for that expression to be there. And just like that it hit him. Derek was under a spell that was going to _force_ him to have sex with Stiles. Stiles, who was only sixteen years old—almost seventeen, thank you very much—but still had to be around the same age Derek had been when Kate had…well to be frank, faked a relationship with him in order to kill his family. Okay, so maybe Stiles could understand why this was just as horrifying for the guy. He wondered if Kate had taken Derek’s virginity. After about point zero seconds of considering that sickening possibility, Stiles contemplated the very real probability that Derek hadn’t really had any romantic relationships since Kate and that the first time he would have sex again was with a sixteen year old virgin against both of their wills.

                Yeah, okay, Stiles could sympathize. This really sucked. Like, a lot. For both of them.

                With a deep sigh, Stiles put on his brave face that he usually reserved for life threatening supernatural encounters (which this totally was, okay?!) and steeled himself for what he was about to say.

                “Sorry, man. It’s okay! I mean I’m not thrilled to lose my virginity in the middle of the woods but hey, things could be worse! We could be on a deserted island with no WIFI!” His _amazing_ attempt at humor fell flat, as it usually did whenever grouchy wolf was around.

                “We’re not in the middle of the woods…” Derek looked at him like he was mentally deficient, which was really unfair considering the number of times Stiles had saved his furry ass from some life threatening situation. But on further inspection, he found that Derek was right. Sometime during his introspection Derek had emerged onto the Hale property and the house was now in sight. The witch must not have magicked them as far into the preserve as Stiles had thought. The entire forest looked the same at night to his pathetic human vision.

                “Oh, right, I totally knew that, man.” An obvious lie. “Now I can lose my virginity on a bed, great.” He honestly hadn’t meant to sound so bitter. For the sake of Derek’s sanity he had meant to stay positive, but the harsh reality that he was about to have sex for the first time on someone else’s terms kept him from thinking completely rationally.

 _It’s not that bad._ He reminded himself. Derek was pretty fucking attractive and Stiles could admit that he had noticed. If he was even more honest with himself he could admit that the firm muscles and broad back had been the main attraction in his wet dreams for months. If he had been feeling especially truthful he would acknowledge that the increasing fantasies he’d had of the sexy alpha had taken the place of his life-long obsession with Lydia Martin. So maybe he wasn’t too terribly upset that he was definitely losing his “innocence” to such a scrumptious piece of man muscle. He was a little miffed that the aforementioned sex god was an unwilling participant but, hey, so was he…technically.

Oh, and what do you know? All those thoughts of perfect wash board abs had gotten him a little excited. He could feel his exposed cock start to harden.  The arms holding him to Derek’s chest stiffened, alerting Stiles to the man’s knowledge of his arousal.

Stiles was too self-conscious to even breathe. Sometimes he _hated_ that all his friends had super-spidey senses. It was ridiculously unfair.

Thankfully, Derek didn’t comment. Instead he continued his long stride up to the house, stepping silently onto the porch. The steps hadn’t creaked in months thanks to the renovations his betas had forced Derek to make. Apparently, and Stiles had to agree, meeting in an abandoned warehouse and a burnt out shell of a house had gotten a bit old.

The inside of the house was cool in comparison to the humid air of summer in Northern California. Stiles shivered, reminded unpleasantly of the fact that he was naked. Very naked. Suddenly it seemed unfair that the spell had allowed Derek to keep all his cloths.

_Stupid witch!_

“So when are you getting naked?” Stiles asked, trying his best not to sound whiny and failing. Derek just rolled his eyes and adjusting his hold. Stiles was now riding bridal style. “Dude, I’m not a girl you know. I can walk. Not to imply that girls can’t walk, because they totally can. I’m all about equality. Yep that’s me: Stiles-the-feminist-Stilinski.  No prejudice here, no sir.” He was rambling. The nerves had returned and talking was the only way he knew how to relieve the tension. “Seriously, man, I can walk just fine.”

“This is faster.” Derek had never been talkative and if the stiffness in his shoulders meant what Stiles thought it did then faster was better. He would prefer that the man be in control instead of the wolf.

They had almost reached Derek’s room. Stiles realized that he’d never been inside before, _probably_ , he thought, _no one else has either_. That was a small comfort. The werewolf burst through the door, seeming to speed up as they grew closer to the bed. Stiles was dumped unceremoniously onto the comforter as Derek seemed to go into a frenzy tearing around the room.

From his position, sprawled carelessly in the center of the bed (he felt a bit like one of the twink porn stars from his favorite porno) Stiles watched the man zipping around the room. First he charged to the bathroom, reemerging with a tube of what Stiles guessed was lube. Then to the dresser, digging furiously around in the bottom drawer until he popped up with a small box that could only be condoms. Next on to the nightstand, where he deposited his supplies before dashing over to the closet and yanking it open. It was surprisingly neat, but Stiles didn’t have long to appreciate Derek’s organizational skills, because the man of the hour was _finally_ getting naked. Gloriously naked, Stiles imagined that he could hear the angels singing, because honestly, that body deserved its own holy ballad.

Derek was struggling out of his clothes as fast he could, but it seemed that his enthusiasm was actually slowing him down. His quick eager movements caused his arms to get stuck in the arms of his sleeves over his head and Stiles couldn’t help but laugh at the sight.

Growling with impatience the man burst out of his shirt, the shredded remains falling to the floor. Stiles only laughed louder. All it earned him was a red eyed glare, which effectively silenced him.

They blinked back to their normal green and their owner looked mildly chagrinned but he continued to undress, moving onto his pants. Stiles could hear the zipper descend from his place on the bed and the thought of what lay underneath excited him.

It was crazy how this night had progressed. It had begun with a crazy witch and escalated to his virginity nearly slipping right through his fingers in the middle of a forest, a terrifying thought. But let it never be said that the Stillinski’s weren’t resilient. Because this night was ending with sex. SEX. Stiles was _finally_ having sex. Every moment of his almost seventeen years had led to this moment! His ancestors would be so proud.

“You wouldn’t happen to have camera? I need to remember this night!” The look he got from Derek was typical. The man had turned from the closet and was now entirely nude—just another reason Stiles desperately needed a camera!—and stared at him as if he’d grown a second head. “What? It’s not every day I get laid, okay? In fact this is first and probably last time I ever get any, anytime soon!”

Derek just rolled his eyes, as if he’d never heard anything as completely ridiculous, which was completely unfair. Stiles knew he wasn’t exactly ugly, but neither was he really attractive either. He was nowhere near Derek’s level of hotness. The man was literally and figuratively a sex god. After all Stiles was just a sixteen year old kid. He was one hundred and forty seven pounds of gangly pale limbs with enough freckles and moles for an entire kindergarten class to play connect the dots.  He was average height and skinny. People couldn’t stand to be around him for more than ten minutes at a time because he never shut up. There was nothing especially appealing about him.

The predatory look on Derek’s face told a different story. The werewolf was prowling toward him like he was prey. Red eyes blazed through the gloom of the bedroom.

Scrambling back on the bed with an ungainly squawk, Stiles tried to throw himself under the blankets. Blankets meant protection. But he had barely moved at all before Derek was looming over him, piercing him with glowing crimson beacons.

Maybe it hadn’t been the smartest thing to run away. Scott always said running was an invitation. Now he knew firsthand how true that was. Because Derek sure was treating it as such. His eyes flashed over Stiles’ exposed body, a clawed hand trailing lightly over the naked flesh of his hip. Stiles shivered.

“D-Derek?”

As soon as the name left his mouth the red orbs flickered back to their normal green. Derek blinked at him.

“Sorry.” For the second time that night Derek was uncharacteristically sincere. However, he didn’t remove his hands from their positions on Stiles’ wrist and hip. “It’s hard to stay in control…my wolf wants—” There was an awkward pause. “It helps when you say my name.”

Of course Stiles had already figured that out, but all he could do was nod. For once words were beyond him. _This is happening,_ he realized, _I am actually about to have sex with Derek-freaking-Hale!_

Stiles held his breath as Derek leaned down. His heart beat speeding up the closer the other man got. Even to him the hammering of his heart filled the room. The only other noise was their ragged breathing. Their breath began to mix as Derek hovered millimeters away from his lips.

“Derek…” it was barely a whisper, but the murmur was cut off as Derek finally closed the distance between them and crashed their mouths together.

At first it was nightmarishly awkward, their teeth clacking together and noses bumping painfully. But Derek brought his hand up to Stiles’ face, guiding it to a more comfortable position. The alpha was in control of the kiss, lightly tracing the curve of Stiles’ upper lip. The sensation was new and overwhelming. Stiles parted his lips reflexively and suddenly Derek’s tongue was everywhere. The roof his mouth, trailing along his teeth, and massaging his tongue.

Stiles didn’t know what to do. He felt awkward. But he wanted to participate. His own hands crept up Derek‘s arms and settled on his shoulders, grounding him. Derek shifted up onto the bed, pressing himself down on top of Stiles, continuing the kiss. Trails of heat lingered in the wake of the alphas’ hands as they brushed up and down the sides of Stiles’ torso.

Stiles was very, very hard, but so was Derek. And miracles of miracles their cocks were touching. Shuddering, Stiles thrust up his hips, his dick seeking friction. Their cock heads brushed sending sparks down both their spines.

Stiles gasped, breaking the kiss. “Derek” it sounded more like a plea this time.

The man in question nipped at his neck, mouthing at his pulse point. The mouthing turned into sucking, and Stiles was sure the werewolf was leaving a monstrous hickey. The hickey giving sex god made his way down Stiles’ throat to the juncture between neck and shoulder and bit down. It didn’t break the skin and he moaned, writhing up against the werewolf like he’d been struck by lightning.

Everything burned. And Stiles needed…he needed—well he wasn’t exactly sure what he needed but he did know Derek could give it to him.

“Gods, Derek, please…” Stiles begged breathily. He was dimly aware of how wanton he was acting but couldn’t seem to care. This uncontrollable need forcing him to rub against the man on top of him and plead for some unknown remedy completely over took him. Only later would he realize that this must have been the spell compelling him to fulfill the witch’s intentions.

They were a mass of writhing limbs of the bed. Stiles was so close—sixteen year old virgin here—and in his desperation to finish he let out a high pitched whine from the back of his throat.

Suddenly the world was spinning and before Stiles could even squeak in alarm, he had a mouth full of pillow. Apparently, that was the cue Derek had been waiting for. It seemed as if some of the cords that had tethered him to his humanity had been cut and he rutted wildly against the curve of Stiles’ ass. 

Moaning out his name did little to stop the frenzy that Derek seem to be trapped in. It did, however, stop the mindless grinding—much to Stiles’ disappointment—and sent him lunging toward the nightstand. A moment later there was a thump as the tube of lube landed heavily on the bed by his waist. Stiles complied as Derek frantically arranged him on the bed. Similarly to the position Stiles had found himself in out in the woods, Derek arranged him with his knees under him and spread as far apart as they would go. When he’d tried to raise his head and lift himself up on his hands, all he’d got for his trouble was a soft growl and a hand pushing his firmly back onto the bed. Apparently, Derek liked him on display.

Stiles wasn’t prepared for what happened next despite the fact it almost perfectly mirrored what had taken place earlier. Hands spread his ass cheeks and a tongue swept over his hole. A full body spasm rocked his frame and a surprised yelp escaped his mouth. He felt hot all over. The blush staining his face spread down his neck to mark his chest. As the tongue descended onto him again, all Stiles could do was grip the sheets to anchor himself to the bed. This felt better than touching his dick ever had. This made his toes curl and Derek’s name flowed like a chorus from his lips.

Derek had a talented tongue. It was currently stabbing at his hole, begging for entrance. Stiles did his best to relax. A greased finger joined the tongue’s quest for entrance to his body. It rubbed teasingly across his pucker, coaxing it to relax enough for the tongue to penetrate it. He could feel his hole quiver and then give as the tongue finally achieved its goal. Stiles had never experienced something this good.

Groaning in pleasure, Stiles shuddered as the invading tongue flicked teasingly in and out of his passage. Derek Hale was fucking him with his tongue. The thought was almost as arousing as the act.

And when Stiles didn’t think it could possibly get any better, it did. Derek’s index finger joined his tongue on its journey in and out of his ass. The man’s finger was thick, but Stiles was relaxed enough that it barely burned at all and the friction it created made him pant.

Through all of this Derek hadn’t said a word, but now he broke his silence.

“Do you like that?” Derek rumbled. All Stiles could do was gasp for breath as a litany of curses slipped from his mouth, Derek’s name mixed in with garble. “So responsive.” This was accompanied by a second finger and then he returned his tongue to its torturous place by his fingers, licking provocatively around Stiles’ hole. 

All Stiles could do was writhe and moan and try not to pass out from the sheer bliss. Who knew that sex was this friggin awesome?

A third finger entered him and he felt a stinging pain for the first time but it quickly passed. Derek was spreading and stretching him with his fingers, fucking him slowly all the while. All too soon for his tastes, Derek withdrew the digits and Stiles could hear the slick noise of him oiling up his cock.

Glancing behind him, the sight almost distracted him from his purpose. Derek’s cock was huge. He hadn’t realized it before because it had been dark and Derek hadn’t been as hard, but damn. The dude’s cock was twice as long as his and the girth was proportional to the length. It almost made him feel a bit self-conscious of his own untouched drooling dick that was caught between his stomach and the sheets. But lust quickly dismissed those fears and Stiles only just had the presence of mind to complete his inquiry.

“Condom?” Was his husky question.

“Can’t—going to—knot you.”

Before Stiles could thoroughly process that information, Derek’s cock was pushing at his entrance.

And, wow. Yeah that hurt. That hurt a lot! In fact Stiles was pretty sure he wanted Derek to stop. Right now. But then the head of Derek’s cock popped through the resistant ring of his ass, and—

“GOD FUCKING DAMN IT, DEREK! THAT FUCKING HURTS!” If Stiles had thought that Derek would stop he was sorely mistaken. Instead, hands came up to grasp his hips. Claws sank into his flesh but didn’t break the skin. The werewolf  used his grip on Stiles’ hips to impale him on the cock already in his ass. Derek sank in to the hilt before he stopped, his balls pressed against Stiles’ upturned cheeks.

Stiles bit his lip as the burning increased. His channel spasmed as it struggled to adjust to the huge invasion. Thankfully, Derek remained still, giving Stiles time to get used to his cock.

“Move.” Stiles groaned when the sensation of being full became too much.

Derek did move. He also growled. It was such a low rumble that Stiles felt it in his toes. Derek drew back so that only the very tip of his cock remained inside and then slammed back in. The violent motion pushed Stiles across the sheet as Derek continued the brutal pace. Stile’s head hit the headboard and Derek removed his hands from Stiles’ hips to the bed. One hand on either side of his head gave Derek the leverage to really pound his dick in and out of Stiles’ hole.

With the change in angle, Stiles went from gritting his teeth to trying desperately not to come. Derek was hitting his prostate with every thrust and it was all he could do just to stay conscious as his eyes threatened to roll back in his head. The sheer pleasure of it all was dazzling and he could do nothing to hold back the needy little whimpers escaping his mouth.

“Oh fuck—Derek—Derek please—gods don’t stop—please don’t stop—y-yeah—right there—fuck!”  Just when Stiles was sure he couldn’t take another second, he felt it. Something caught on the lip of his hole, stretching it just a little bit more every time Derek moved. And that’s when he came. It was surprisingly sudden, and Stiles felt his cock twitch before everything went dark.

When he opened his eyes again, he was lying on his side. Something firm and hot was pressing against his back. Derek’s cock was still in his ass, but now instead of pumping in and out, the werewolf seemed to be doing his best to grind into Stiles’ ass with abandon. That’s when he remembered the knot. It explained why he couldn’t move away from the man behind him without the unpleasant stretching and burning sensation returning.

 Derek’s hand was stroking Stiles’ chest, occasionally pausing to tweak a nipple, when he spoke.

“Are you okay?” The gruff voice sounded uncharacteristically concerned and when it took Stiles a moment to respond the body behind him froze. “Did I hurt you? I thought you were okay…you wouldn’t stop talking. Sorry.”

It was the most Stiles had ever heard the man say at once outside of pack meetings. Grinning, Stiles twisted his neck so he could look the alpha in the eye.

“No, I am not okay. Your crazy werewolf sex nearly killed me! It’s a miracle I survived the agony,” Stiles deadpanned. If the look on Derek’s face told him anything, it was that he should really learn to control his sarcasm.

“Shut up, Stiles.”

Smiling happily, he wriggled back into the form behind him. “You know you love it.”

The only response he received was Derek tightening his arms around him. Stiles snuggled into the warmth. He’d just had sex with Derek Hale. He was no longer a virgin. He was cuddling in bed with Derek-I-have-no-heart-Hale.

Maybe he did have some luck after all.

**Author's Note:**

> **"Peccata matris adduceret bestia illius accipies innocentiae" roughly translates to "The sins of the mother to bring the beast take his innocence"  
> I don't know Latin so I used Google Translate. If anyone knows a better translation let me know.
> 
> THERE WILL, AT SOME POINT IN THE FUTURE, BE A SEQUEL...BUT HELL IF I KNOW WHEN I WILL FEEL LIKE WRITING IT.  
> Hey if anyone wants to make some fanart for the scene with the thorns that would be awesome!  
> Please review!


End file.
